Season of Angels (9781101612170)

by Kinkade, Thomas; Spencer, Katherine

  Sam held up his hands. “No, I’m good, thanks. You are a danger to my waistline. But I do want to talk.”

  Molly nodded, and he could see that his sister didn’t really want to get into this topic again, but they had to try. This was as good a time as any.

  “So, what do you think now about Dad and Uncle Kevin? Do you still feel the same?” Sam watched her expression as he asked the question. She looked wary, and he didn’t want to put her on the defensive. “I just want to know how you feel. Grandma has given up. She drove back to Vermont this morning. She left me a message.”

  “She did? I didn’t know that . . . I wanted to see her at least one time before she left.” Molly sounded sad.

  Sam almost snapped at her again. How could you know if you didn’t try to see her or even call her on the phone while she was here? But he stopped himself.

  “She missed seeing you again, too,” he told her. “She was sad it didn’t work out,” he went on. “Yesterday after church she told me she was handing it over to God.”

  Molly sighed, suddenly somber. “I should have been nicer to her. I just felt so bad about Dad, it got my hackles up.”

  “Let’s not even go there,” Sam said quickly. “The question is, what do we do now? Anything? Do you think Dad will take any steps at all to solve this? Will you take any steps?” he asked pointedly. “Or do you still feel the same way? And I’m just asking,” he reminded her, “just to get a show of hands. I’m not going to fight you anymore on this. So you can be honest with me.”

  Molly seemed about to answer, then bit her lower lip, as if stopping her mouth from reacting before her mind had caught up. Then she slapped the metal table with her hand. “All right, I’m in. I’m in,” she repeated. “I feel bad for Dad, but you know what? Life goes on, Sam. Life goes on. We have all been hurt by people we love. You have, and I have, too,” she reminded him. “When I was thinking about how you used to help me when I was first divorced, I started thinking about Phil, too, of course. How mad I was at him, and how it made me so short-tempered and mad at the world sometimes.”

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Really? We never noticed.”

  Phil Willoughby and Molly had gotten married right out of high school, but their marriage had broken up when Jillian was still tiny. Phil disappeared for a while, not even helping with child support, making Molly’s load even heavier.

  Molly made a face back. “Yeah, I’ll bet. The point is, when he cleaned up his act and wanted to be a real father again, I had to forgive him. I was remembering that, too. That was hard, Sam. You know how hard it was for me. But if I hadn’t taken that step and let go of the past, who knows where I would be now? I never would have worked things out with Matt . . . I never would have had this shop or this great life I have now,” she added. “I was definitely stuck. So maybe Daddy is, too.”

  Sam felt so relieved that his sister finally understood, he nearly leaped over the table and hugged her.

  “I think he is, Molly. That’s why I want him to work it out. This anger and bitterness is only hurting him, secretly eating at his heart. . . . I’m glad you see that now.”

  Molly nodded. “I think I do. But what should we do—try to bring them together? Is that what Grandma wanted?”

  “I think that was her plan. But now she’ll have to come back down here again. Or someone will have to go get her. I guess I could do that,” he offered, “if we could set a time and place for this to happen.”

  “We would have to surprise Dad,” Molly said. She rose and poured herself a cup of coffee. “I’m thinking it should be a big family party, not just the two of them, one on one. You know Daddy; he wouldn’t handle that too well.”

  “A family party sounds good. We could get to meet Kevin’s new wife and their children. He’s never even seen our little ones, Lily and Betty.”

  “You spoke to him. Do you think he would come?”

  “Yes, I do. I think he wants to make amends with Dad. He just doesn’t know how to start.”

  “Well, from my limited perspective, a big party is always a good idea. We can have it at my house. There’s plenty of room, and I’ll make all the food here. Consider it done. All you have to do is get Grandma Addie back down here.”

  “I can handle Grandma, no problem. But are you sure you really want to go ahead with this? I don’t want to feel as if I backed you into a corner. I know you have a ton of holiday parties to cater right now. With Betty out and Christmas coming, I’m sure you don’t need any more on your plate. I really just wanted us to talk this out without fighting again.”

  Molly reached over and patted his arm. “I know, Sam. But you know how I am. Up until now, I’ve just accepted Dad’s stubbornness because that’s who he is. And because I’m like that, too,” she admitted ruefully. “But we both know that’s not always a good thing. So do you think this could work?”

  Sam nodded, feeling as if a huge load had been lifted from his shoulders. “I do, and you know what they say in that baseball movie, ‘If you build it, they will come.’” He smiled at her. “If you make that pâté of yours and those spinach puffs, they will come and have a good time and maybe figure this out.”

  “I hope so, Sam. At least we can say we tried . . . together, right?” She offered him her hand across the table and he folded it in both of his own and shook it.

  “Right. We’re in this together, pal. We either rise or fall.”

  His phone rang and he checked the number. “Look at that, it’s Grandma. I told her to call me when she got home, but she can’t be in Vermont already,” he reasoned. “Unless she’s started speeding in her old age . . . Hi, Grandma, what’s up? I hope you’re not trying to talk on the phone while you’re driving.”

  “I’m not driving, don’t worry. I’m still at the inn. I had some car trouble this morning, and I didn’t get too far. A rear tire just plain exploded. So I had to wait for a tow truck from the village, and now they have to order the right sort of tire for my car. I’m going to stay over at the inn at least one more night . . . could be longer.”

  “Really? That’s . . . amazing. I’m really glad to hear that . . . I mean, not that you had car trouble. But I’ve just been talking to Molly and we had this idea. Wait, I’m going to put her on and let her tell you herself.”

  He covered the phone before handing it to his sister. “Grandma had car trouble. She’s still at the inn. What luck, huh? Why don’t you tell her about the party? It was your idea. She’s going to be so happy.”

  Molly took the phone, and Sam listened to her side of the conversation as she explained their new plan to Grandma Addie.

  Sam could tell from the expression on Molly’s face and the many pauses in the conversation that their grandmother was pretty overwhelmed but totally thrilled by the idea.

  When Molly hung up she looked happy, too. “She can hardly believe we want to do this. She said her prayers were answered. Isn’t that sweet? I’m going over there tomorrow to visit and figure things out. I’m thinking the sooner we have it, the better, like maybe the end of this week?”

  “Sounds good to me. You pick a day and we are there.”

  “You’d better be,” Molly warned him. She sighed. “Well, at least we made our grandma happy. And figured out how to bring peace to the family . . . and you fixed a hole in the roof. Pretty productive day, wouldn’t you say?”

  “And it ain’t over yet,” Sam reminded her. “I think I’ll take that carrot cake to go with a cup of coffee. Skim milk and one sugar, you know the way I like it.”

  “Yeah, I know . . . and you know where the self-serve station is, right up front. Help yourself.” She grinned at him like she always did when he tried to boss her around.

  Sam didn’t mind. Things were back to normal between them, and that was fine with him.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jonathan didn’t
get to Lilac Hall on Monday until nearly one in the afternoon. He walked into the entry hall and checked the reception desk. Mrs. Fisk was there, but there was no sign of Tess. He walked over to sign in, eager to see her.

  “Is Tess Wyler around?” Mrs. Fisk glanced at him over the edge of her glasses. “She’s been helping me a lot with my research,” he added quickly.

  “Tess is not in today. She’s at home with a cold.”

  “A cold? That’s too bad.”

  She didn’t seem sick yesterday, he thought. Maybe she had hidden it from him—or ignored it. That would be like her. Had he kept her out on the beach in the cold too long? Maybe her feet did get wet in the waves.

  He suddenly felt very inconsiderate. He had been so caught up exploring the island, he hadn’t even noticed that she didn’t feel well.

  “Mr. Butler? I can take you upstairs now. You need to store your belongings in a locker,” she reminded him.

  Jonathan looked up and realized that Mrs. Fisk was waiting to take him to the reading room. She must have been talking to him, and he hadn’t heard a word.

  “You know, Mrs. Fisk . . . I just remembered. I forgot some important notes. I really can’t work without them. Stupid of me,” he said as he quickly signed himself out again. So far, he had only taken off his muffler. He slung it around his neck again, then tucked the canvas bag with his laptop under his arm. “See you tomorrow. Have a nice afternoon.”

  The curator stared at him quizzically, her mouth in a tight line. “Same to you.”

  Jonathan trotted quickly to his car and jumped in. He pulled out his phone and called Tess’s cell. It rang and rang. Finally, he heard her voice on the other end. She sounded like she had a clothespin on her nose.

  “Jonathan? Are you at Lilac Hall?”

  “I just got here—and I’m just leaving. They said you’re home sick.”

  “I have a cold. It’s a doozy.” He smothered a laugh. Only Tess would use a word like that. “I meant to text you, but I was sleeping most of the morning.”

  “That’s all right. I feel awful. You must have felt it coming on yesterday, and I kept you out all day in the cold. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I felt fine yesterday. It just came out of nowhere last night, honestly. Besides, being out in the cold doesn’t give you a cold. It’s caused by a virus or bacterial infection. Actually, it’s been scientifically proven that walking outside in cold air can speed up recovery.”

  “I’m sure.” He smiled to himself. Even completely congested, Tess was getting the facts straight. “Listen,” he said, “can I come by and see you? I could bring you some things from the drugstore or supermarket. Do you have enough orange juice and tea and honey and all that? How about tissues? There are never enough of those.”

  Tess laughed. “My mom went out this morning and stocked up on supplies. But there is one thing I could really use.”

  “What is that? Your wish is my command.”

  He heard her laugh, a croaky sound that made him feel all concerned again. “I need to finish a paper that’s due when I get back to school, and there’s a book I reserved at the library in town. They just called and said it came in.”

  “I can get it for you, no problem. What about your library card? Should I stop by first and pick it up?”

  “Don’t worry. I know all the librarians there. I’ll call and let them know you’re coming for it. They’ll know what to do.”

  “Great. Now . . . where do you live?”

  Tess gave him her address and directions to her house and the library. Jonathan headed back to the village and soon found the library, which was on Main Street, not far from the village hall. He quickly retrieved the book Tess had on hold, a thick volume on colonial history. As he was about to check it out, he noticed a woman next to him at the counter returning a DVD of Notorious, a classic Hitchcock thriller that was suspenseful and romantic. He thought Tess might like it if she wanted to take a study break. The librarian was nice enough to let him have that, too.

  He headed back to his car with the book and movie and started off toward Tess’s house. Even though she told him she had all she needed, he still felt he ought to bring something to cheer her up. He was passing a big supermarket, the kind that sold everything from donuts to doorknobs, and he pulled into the lot. There had to be something in there that he could bring a person who had a bad cold—a very sweet, pretty person whom he cared about a lot.

  After his stop at the market, Jonathan found Tess’s house. She lived on a narrow street with tall trees, not far from Main Street.

  It was a very pleasant-looking street, he thought, like something out of a painting of classic America. The houses were modest, mostly Capes in the saltbox style that was so popular in New England.

  The Wylers’ house was neat, well kept and dark blue with white trim. It was a cloudy day and a lamp shone in the front window. He could see a cozy living room inside with a couch and big armchairs and a Christmas tree in the corner. Colorful Christmas lights were strung around the bushes outside and around the front door, along with a strand of pine garland and a big wreath.

  He thought of the house he had grown up in. His father never let the caretaker put lights up, though they did have a large wreath every year on the front door. Even the wreath was rather bare-looking, its only bit of decoration a big red ribbon from the florist’s shop.

  Few people saw it, so what was the difference? The huge brick colonial was set back on several acres in Weston, one of Boston’s wealthiest areas.

  Tess’s house was about the size of his father’s six-car garage, but there was something very warm and welcoming about it, Jonathan thought as he came up the walk. He realized he was eager to see the inside, to see where Tess lived and learn more about her.

  At the front door, he rang the bell, balancing the packages in his arms. The door slowly opened, and a boy stood there and stared up at him. He looked a lot like Tess, with the same thick reddish-brown hair and blue eyes. He was about ten years old, Jonathan guessed. “Hi,” he said. “I’m here to see Tess.”

  “I can’t let any strangers in. Wait here.”

  The boy shut the door, and Jonathan shifted the packages in his arms. How long was this going to take?

  Then he heard a loud, clear shout from just behind the door. “Tess-sss-ss! Some guy is here to see you. Did you order groceries?”

  He heard footsteps and Tess’s voice. “Groceries? What are you talking about? I didn’t order anything.”

  The door opened again. Jonathan smiled at her. “It’s just me. I got your book and some other stuff,” he added, now feeling self-conscious that he had sort of overdone it.

  Tess’s blue eyes widened. “Is that all for me?”

  He tried to shrug, acting like it was no big deal. “Just some flowers . . . and some soup and crackers . . . and some organic spearmint tea. Opens up those nasal passages,” he explained. “Oh, and I saw these really nice-looking oranges and strawberries. It’s important to get lots of vitamin C.”

  Tess took a bag from him and peered inside. “And a chocolate cake? Is that good for a cold, too?”

  “Chocolate is very good for you. It’s an antioxidant and lifts your mood. It will help you study, really.”

  He had heard all this stuff someplace, though he wasn’t sure if any of it was actually true.

  “Come in, come in.” Tess was practically laughing at him. “That’s very sweet, Jonathan. I would give you a hug, but I don’t want you to catch anything,” she said in a quieter voice. Her brother might be listening, he realized.

  “I really just wanted the book and didn’t even want you to see me like this. I’m a total, unmitigated . . . mess.” She covered her face with her hand.

  He gently pulled it away. “You look great. As always,” he added quietly.

  H
er nose was a little red and her cheeks were pale. Her hair was tied up in a sloppy knot at the back of her head, coming loose in all directions. She wore jeans and fluffy slippers and a huge sweatshirt that said Cape Light Lacrosse, a leftover from high school, he suspected.

  They carried the packages into the kitchen, and he helped her unpack everything and watched her put the flowers in water.

  “These are beautiful. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t know what color you liked, so I asked the lady to mix them up.” He had gone for the deluxe bouquet, a dozen multicolored roses—pink, yellow, white, and a purple-hued red. Her wide, amazed smile made it entirely worth it.

  “My brother, Billy, is home sick from school today, too. I must have caught this bug from him, the little stinker. Germs, that’s about all he ever gives me.”

  “I heard that. I’m telling Mom!”

  They both heard Tess’s brother shout from the other room, over the sound of the TV. Jonathan looked at her and they started laughing. She waved her hands, urging him to be quiet. “Shhh . . . he has extremely good hearing, like a vampire bat,” she whispered.

  “Okay, I’ll be quiet, don’t worry.” It was just so good to see her again. He loved being around her. Even with her stuffed nose and watery eyes.

  She started to sneeze, and he quickly handed her the box of tissues he’d brought. “They’re the kind with lotion,” he explained, then immediately felt ridiculous. Who actually discussed lotion on tissues?

  “Thanks,” she managed after a sneeze or two.

  “Maybe the flowers weren’t such a good idea,” he realized, looking at the big bouquet. “I can put them outside, on the porch or something.”

  “Oh no, don’t do that. They’re so pretty. No one ever bought me roses before.”

  He felt good about that. He would buy her a roomful if she liked them that much.

  Tess put two oranges on a plate and led him into an L-shaped living room and dining room. Her schoolwork and laptop were spread out on the table.